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Luna Feb 18
Come dear night,
My veil from all the
Dreadful tales of the world
As the sun spirals down
I welcome you with open arms.

Lie with me
Beaneath the moon
That’s not the least
Ashamed to spy on our
Little meeting.

The silence
Left in the wake of dead
Seems to be our piece,
Our cue for the ball
That didn’t happen till yet.

Perfect twirls—
I can’t help but
Feel your loneliness as comfort
To me ;

The night and I —
Perfect companions.
William Maxwell Dec 2018
.
I think you ruined me
Even though I learned a lot
I'm marked by your cruelty
Out, ****** spot
Medusa Oct 2018
"She should have died hereafter.
There would have been a time for such a word.
Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day
To the last syllable of recorded time,
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing."

~Shakespeare, from 'Macbeth'
Matt McCleve Nov 2017
You know I’ll find my life in gold
Fates come and show everything they know
My road crossed through the devil’s stead
The strangest path I’ve gone to tread

You know I stopped my breathing in
On to the top I’ll **** my best friends
Where I am weak my lady mends
Crowned king where all my worries end

The guilt had swept over my brain
I’ve washed the blood but sin remains
In my throne overcome with pain
Realized my goal and self-disdain

Numb to what’s left of this part I’ve played
Long lost the noble path I’ve paved
Expressionless from my lady’s death
A pointless fool left with pointless breath

I’ve felt this once before,
Temptation will love me and hide the true ****
Now tortured with this blood
I’m found out and breathe in the last breath I’m given

A pointless fool wasted pointless breath
The strangest path I’ve gone to tread
Thoughts on the tragic Macbeth
Lizzy Nov 2016
Light of my life,
The slings and arrows
Of outrageous fortune
Bloom a rose
In the deeps of my heart.

And so I came forth
But could not behold the stars.
The slings and arrows,
They trespassed upon my thoughts.

And I cried that I came
To this great stage of fools,
But it echoed loudly within me
Because I am hollow at the core.

That outward existence which conforms,
This inward life which questions
Confusion now hath made his masterpiece of.  

I don't exactly know
What I mean by that,
But I mean it.
This is made of quotes from some of my favorite pieces of literature
Jay Kay Jun 2016
And tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow and the blood and the black and the birds and the gags and the stew and the stewing and the hate and the cries and the wood and the prince and the tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow and today.
Curtain
ordained Nov 2015
i think it's bad luck to say your name, too
when you introduced yourself, it was loud and you repeated your name twice (i smiled and said it back, a confirmation, a dream, a prayer)
and i started to fall, slowly
but i did also fall, clumsy as ever, as you walked me home and you laughed and carried me the rest of the way
and i started to fall, slowly, in love
with the idea of love, with the idea of power
and once i got a taste of what it felt like to rule, i couldn't stop breaking the rules
i was MacB, ******* and craving, and repeating your name at every chance i got, like a chant, like salvation
and when you said my name, i felt every laugh i'd ever laughed warm my body and sing until my ears were filled with kaleidoscopic pleasures
and then i hit the ground, too tired to run
and your name echoed through the glens and i was alone
and i felt the full effects of the Scottish hero's pain
and i drank
and drank
drowned
down

but every protagonist becomes the antagonist eventually, and you let me drop
and so i think your name is the cursed one
boys are bad, both fictional and nonfictional, dead and living, king-killers and heartbreakers
ordained Nov 2015
cursed and plagued and ...
whispered on the candy stained lips of ******* children,
just hoping that something bad will happen
i was one of them, testing the limits and toeing the line and waiting,
baited breath and excited eyes, for the "break a leg" to become more than just a saying for good luck
and maybe i pushed the envelope a little too far,
maybe the bard punished not the production but the girl with wild hair and a wilder grin, sending her the karma meant for lady mac herself
maybe i am that cruel woman
or maybe i am her fairer husband, because the weird sisters that predict my downfall are named Anxiety, Alcoholism, and Anger
i wish i had been superstitious as a child
(forwarding the chain emails and reblogging or ten years of bad luck didn't drive me to the cliff's edge)
because maybe i would be safe now
i keep reading the scottish play and wishing desperately i hadn't whispered his name into empty rows of theaters back when i thought superstitions were for sissies
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